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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607740">Return to Sender</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimeetsmischief/pseuds/marimeetsmischief'>marimeetsmischief</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged Up, Delivery Boy! Luka, Delivery Service AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Musician! Luka, Personal Stylist! Marinette, Sort of a Coffee Shop AU?, no miraculous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimeetsmischief/pseuds/marimeetsmischief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukanette February 2020! - A collection of interconnecting drabbles for the lukanette prompts.</p>
<p>Personal Stylist Marinette Dupain-Cheng gets dragged into a last minute trip with one of her clients and ends up back in Paris, France, after working in China for four years. A series of fateful encounters brings her face to face with Luka Couffaine, Paris's most popular and well known delivery boy with a talent for music.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The soft patter of rain against the cobblestone alley was music to Marinette’s ears as she stepped out of her back door. Since she had moved, no matter what she tried, the apartment always felt too confining and stiff. Which, honestly, it was, compared to the cool and rainy air of Chengdu, and her tiny flat there. Four years of working in southwest China had made her forget about how dry and bland Paris could feel at times. </p>
<p>That wasn’t a problem, exactly, but she did miss the climate of the place she now thought of as home. It was humid, but usually not too hot. That wasn’t even bringing up the lifestyle there either. It was city life without the pressure of an over-expensive and over-saturated market built on tourism. Fashion was part of everyday life, and she could eat at a dingy food stand one night and an aesthetic cafè the next. The best part was that people were always looking for the next interesting thing, and her commissions had taken off because of that. </p>
<p>But now she was back in Paris, staying in a borrowed apartment for the month, all for some event that she had been volunteered for at the last second. Was it an excellent opportunity? Of course. Did she still wish she had never left China? Undoubtedly. </p>
<p>It was a little uncomfortable, but she was still trying to make the best of it. Her parents had been ecstatic when she finally told them she would be in Paris for a whole month. They had even offered her her old room for the month, which she had quickly declined, not wanting to step back into her old life that much. Even with the awkwardness, she was still a little happy to be in the city she had grown up in, and she had plans to catch up with some old family and friends over the month. Plus, her schedule for the event kept her busy enough that she hopefully wouldn’t get too bored for the month. </p>
<p>It was only the morning of her second day, after she had crashed immediately upon landing the day before. She hardly even remembered leaving the airport, let alone getting to her apartment, but she had woken up in a strange bed and reminded herself where she was. After a cup of green tea hadn’t quite woken her up, she had dragged herself through the process of getting ready. </p>
<p>It was only as she looked in the mirror that she had the thought that Chengdu street style was much more adventurous than Parisian, and she hadn’t really packed anything that would fit in. The girl she had been before she left Paris would have been terrified at that, but this version of Marinette took pride in it, and stepped into the alley way with experienced charisma. She was even happier when she noticed the rain, just light enough to not need an umbrella, which was good considering she hadn’t actually packed one. She popped the collar of her blazer and stepped out of the doorway completely. A gust of wind shivered down the alleyway and she pulled the jacket tighter around herself and shaking her scarf loose in the process. She unwrapped it and pulled it off the rest of the way so that she could readjust it, but another strong breeze barreled into her and knocked it out of her hand. The pale pink fabric fluttered down the alleyway, coming to a stop for just a moment only to be picked up by another wind current. She started after it, lightly jogging to catch up to the scarf and almost wrapping her hand around it before it was carried away again. Giving it a look, as if to say ‘really?’, she sped up behind it. Preoccupied with her annoyance, she didn’t notice the person stepping into the alleyway until they reached out and snagged the scarf from the air and she skidded to a halt in front of them.</p>
<p>“Oh! Uh, sorry, that’s mine,” she apologized quickly, holding her hand out for it. “The wind just kind of swept it up.”</p>
<p>The man smiled slightly and nodded, gently handing it to her. She curled her hands around the now damp scarf, shaking her head. </p>
<p>“Well, uhm, thank you! For catching it, I mean,” she stuttered awkwardly and doing her best to give him a polite smile in return. He didn’t seem to be the talkative type, which wasn’t a problem by any means at all, but it was something contradictory to his look at least. He looked every bit like some kind of alternative rock star, ripped black jeans and a jean jacket covered in patches from a variety of bands. His hair was just a little too long and just a little too messy, with teal dyed tips. </p>
<p>“No worries,” he finally replied and her heart jumped inside her chest. He had what might be the kindest voice she had ever heard, and that was even more startling when paired with his edgy aesthetic. He gave her one last smile and started to turn around and she could feel herself staring awkwardly without any willpower to stop herself. Then, just as he started to walk, she managed to find her voice. </p>
<p>“Wait!” She called a little too loudly, quickly fumbling with her purse. By some miracle, she managed to find a business card and slide it out, holding it out to him. “Sorry. I’m Marinette. That scarf is actually, I guess important, sort of? So thank you, again. If I can repay you in any way, give me a call.” </p>
<p>He raised a brow at her and she flushed, quickly holding her hands up and shaking her head.”I swear I’m not flirting with you, I would never, well I mean, not never, you’re obviously attractive but I mean that totally professionally, I think. Oh, what am I saying, I soun-”</p>
<p>In the middle of her rambling, he burst into laughter and she froze, eyes wide and face as red as a tomato. It took him an embarrassingly long time to finish laughing at her, and Marinette was just about ready to pass out. </p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry, that was just… cute. And, thanks for the compliment, I think. I’m Luka.” He took the business card and gave her one last smile before walking away, leaving her standing there like an idiot with the dorkiest grin on her face. After a long minute, she shook herself out of it and hurried back into her apartment, closing the door and falling back into it. </p>
<p>“Oh. My. God. I am such an idiot.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey kids! i know this is like, an out of no where update, but this fic suddenly got some attention and it gave me the motivation to update it when i haven't had any writing motivation in a w h i l e ........ so thanks for your comments! </p><p>enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marinette glanced at the clock for what was probably the hundredth time, hurrying through the end of her final row of stitches. She had been slamming out row after row of them after her sewing machine had up and quit on her, probably from overuse. After taking it to a repair show she knew, they had told her it would be fixed in a day or two, but she just couldn’t afford to wait any longer to start putting together these pieces. The first day of the event she was booked for was in a week, and honestly, she wasn’t sure if she would make it at all. </p><p>One of her best designer friends had gotten sick suddenly, a bad bout of pneumonia, and they had left their spot to Marinette. Apparently, some up and coming musician was going on tour as the opener for the legendary Jagged Stone, and her friend was supposed to be their wardrobe team designer. The concepts were a lot edgier than she was used to, and Marinette had never really liked working with leather much, but it was too good of an opportunity to turn down. Of course, now she had to actually follow through on her promise to be just as good as their previous choice.</p><p>She had yet to even meet the musician because he was supposed to be some surprise act, which had made it harder than she expected to come up with accurate designs. Still, after a few days of sketching and brainstorming, she had figured out a good amount of concepts and sent them in for review, and then the selections were sent back to her with a few notes. From what she could tell, this musician was more subdued than Jagged, though he had the same subtle edge to everything he liked. They had given her a physical description of him, at least, and some color swatches, and even some reference photos. Even with all of that, everything she designed had felt like a stab in the dark, and she was lucky that he had liked any of it at all. </p><p>Just as she finished her row of stitching, her apartment buzzer rang, and she jolted up, nearly stabbing herself through with the needle. She took a deep breath, setting the garment down and standing up. Thankfully, the apartment had an intercom system, and she had realized that she loved using it. </p><p>“Hi, can I help you?” she asked, holding the button down to talk. </p><p>“Food delivery?” </p><p>“Oh, yeah! You can come right up, the bottom door doesn’t lock. Unit 3A, please!” Marinette grinned widely, making her way over to the front door. She had almost entirely forgotten that she had scheduled her dinners for the next few days in advance, knowing that she wouldn’t eat unless she got interrupted. She quickly unlocked the door, pulling it open and standing in the doorway to wait.</p><p>The face she saw open the door was a startlingly familiar one, messy hair with teal tips that almost covered his eyes. Her cheeks immediately turned pink, and she had to fight to get the warmth in her face to subside. As he approached the door, she could see the recognition in his eyes, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. </p><p>“Marinette, right?” he asked, his voice just as soft and kind as she remembered it.</p><p>“That is definitely m-me,” she stuttered out, her eyes going wide as she stuttered on the last word. It had been years since she had last done that! Trying to recover what was left of her sanity, she held her hand out to take the bag from him just as her phone rang. “I’m so sorry, but could you maybe set it on the counter for me while I go grab that call?” She barely waited for him to respond, seeing him get halfway through a nod before darting back over to her work station.</p><p>“MDC, how can I help you?’ she quickly said on instinct, holding the phone up to her ear. She barely heard anything said, too focused on the completely objectively attractive man walking into her apartment. Suddenly, her ear caught a snippet of the word deadline and she refocused on the person talking on her phone. </p><p>“What was that? Sorry, bad connection,” she quickly explained, her cheeks turning a little pink again. </p><p>“I said, is the deadline going to be a problem?” </p><p>“Of course not…” she trailed off, trying to remember the name of the person she was speaking to. “Mme Lunerois, it’ll be no issue. Everything will be ready for the first fitting.”</p><p>“I hope so, mademoiselle. You were a risk, even if Monsieur Alviette said you would be more than up to the task.” The female voice on the phone paused, and Marinette could practically feel her doubt through the phone. “This is much bigger work than running commissions in an online store.”</p><p>Marinette winced a little, nodding her head even though her caller couldn’t see it. “I understand that, Madame. I’m grateful for the chance.”</p><p>“Good, good. I look forward to meeting you in person, Mlle Dupain-Cheng. Bye bye, now.” After that, the woman hung up before Marinette even had a chance to respond. She pulled the phone away from her ear, tossing it onto her couch with a quiet groan.</p><p>“That bad, huh?” </p><p>She looked up, eyes wide like a deer in headlights to see the source of this voice. The delivery boy was still there. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I can’t believe you had to sit through that.”<br/>
“It wasn’t a long phone call, and I still need your signature anyways,” he said with a shrug, holding out a small tablet and stylus to her.</p><p>Marinette’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink, quickly nodding as she picked up the stylus and signed on the line on his screen. “Sorry to waste so much of your time,” she mumbled, handing the stylus back to him.</p><p>He shrugged, a curious look in his eyes as the same half-smile started to creep onto his lips. It almost seemed like he had realized something, or knew something that she didn’t. He slipped the tablet back into his bag before speaking again, looking right at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. “It wasn’t a waste, Marinette. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>She nodded numbly, her tongue too tangled to stumble any words out other than a barely audible ‘thanks’ as he walked out the door and she closed it behind him. As she heard the main door opening, she came to her senses a little, flinging her apartment door open again. </p><p>“Tomorrow?”</p>
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